


tenderly, in the evening time

by ohhotlamb



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Fluff, Jealousy, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Language, other people start to notice iwa's hotness and oiks can't stand it, thats lit the entire fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 12:37:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11874612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohhotlamb/pseuds/ohhotlamb
Summary: Oikawa isn't the only one who finds Iwaizumi attractive anymore. He has trouble handling it, to say the least.





	tenderly, in the evening time

“When did Iwaizumi-kun get so hot?”

He remembers being told that eavesdropping is only something lousy good-for-nothings do, that he needs to mind his own damn business and  _stay focused, Shittykawa_. But it’s not like he’s doing it on  _purpose—_ except, okay, yeah, he kind of is, but he can’t be blamed for wanting to, considering his ears automatically perk up whenever he hears the word “Iwaizumi” in any given sentence. He presses his back to the lockers, casually leaning lest anyone think he’s anything other than absolutely chill, especially when he’s being decidedly  _un-_ chill.

The second voice that answers sounds confused, and more than a little incredulous, like her friend’s sanity is being called into question. “What do you mean? We’re talking about the same guy, right? The awkward one with bad skin?”

“No, no, just— _look_ at him. Like, closely.”

Oikawa tilts his head, redirecting his gaze to where it had sat minutes prior; his best friend, helping a group of other third years haul one of the extra soccer nets across the school yard. Oikawa had been too busy running an errand for their homeroom teacher to assist, but he’d finished early, and had been thus treated to the absolute  _vision_ of a sweaty Iwaizumi, stripped down to the bare minimum, his school jacket tied around his waist. It’s the view those girls must currently have, even though he can’t see them from where he is.

There’s a long pause, just as Iwaizumi goes to dry his forehead with his sleeve. The bottom of his shirt lifts, revealing a strip of skin. The girl’s voice has gone a little high. “Have his arms always been that…big?”

“I don’t know. And look, look, Erika, his smile—"

A gasp. “His  _teeth.”_

“Aren’t they gorgeous?  _Right?”_

“I mean— _yeah._ But when did he get his braces off?”

“A while ago, I think. How did I never notice before now?”

“I don’t know. It’s kinda hard to focus on him when…you know.”  There’s a flutter of giggling by both of them. “Oikawa-san,” they chorus together, before there’s a dreamy sigh.

“Maybe a little bit of  _Tooru_  is rubbing off on him. He is  _delectable.”_

A contemplative hum. “Does he have a girlfriend?”

“God, I hope not.”

They both laugh, and then there’s the sound of shoe lockers being slammed shut. Oikawa watches as the two girls leave through the front entrance, unabashedly watching Iwaizumi as they go, not making any effort to keep their enthusiastic opinion on his ass to a reasonable volume.

“Unacceptable,” Oikawa addresses the empty air, fingernails biting into his palms. “Nope. Not happening.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Repeat it again, but slower so I can actually understand you.”

Iwaizumi’s expression is weary but accepting, like he had long given up on his life resembling anything that could be considered normal.

Oikawa leans forward earnestly. “You’re getting too hot,” he insists. Iwaizumi’s eyebrows shoot up. “It’s upsetting the natural balance of the school. I need you to stop.”

“Stop what?”

Oikawa throws his hands up in the air. “Being so attractive! Just—cut it out!  _Do something!”_

Iwaizumi opens and closes his mouth several times, like a bewildered fish that has absolutely no idea what’s going on. “What the hell, Oikawa. How am I s’pposed to do that?”

“I don’t know! You made it happen! So make it…un-happen!”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“I can think of several people who would disagree with that statement.”

There’s a moment of silence in which Iwaizumi just sits and stares at him, lost for words. Oikawa leans back, triumphant, and reaches for his drink. Some sort of frappucino—he doesn’t really know, he just orders the first thing on the menu that has coffee and chocolate blended together. The more sugar, the better. There are chocolate chips and bits of ice that he has to crunch on as he sips. Iwaizumi had ordered a mango smoothie, topped off with whipped cream. It continues to sit untouched in front of him, as he had been verbally assaulted the moment they sat down in the café.

“I don’t think that’s the problem here,” Iwaizumi eventually decides. He looks at Oikawa seriously, wrinkles creasing his forehead. “I think you’ve just never had to entertain the idea of someone wanting to take me away from you.”

Oikawa nearly chokes on his drink. He struggles to swallow, and then slams his cup down on the table. “Nonsense! I’ve had to fend people away from you plenty!”

“You have?” He’s surprised, and rightfully so—Oikawa had never planned on letting that tidbit reach the light of day, and he kicks himself. He looks down at his fingers contritely, fiddling with his straw wrapper.

“Oh. Well—I didn’t do anything  _bad,_ per se.”

“ _Oikawa_.”

He bites his lip, not making eye contact. “I might have thrown away several confession letters. Once or twice. I read them, I was doing you a favor,  _trust me—"_

“That’s not your place!” Iwaizumi interrupts, sharply. He’s angry. His eyes are narrowed and red is starting to bloom at the tips of his ears. Oikawa flounders.  _Shit, shit, shit, damage control—_

“It’s not like you would have wanted them, anyway. Not when you have  _me._  I just…” he lets out a breath, flashing a smile even though he knows Iwaizumi had long grown immune to its dazzling capabilities, “I get jealous sometimes, you know? I’m only human.”

With that bit of vulnerable honesty, he expects Iwaizumi to deflate, for his quills to lie flat and for him to drop the issue without further argument. What he doesn’t expect is for his words to have the opposite effect; Iwaizumi getting  _angrier,_ the red flush now extended all the way to his cheeks, making them ruddy. He struggles to keep his voice below a shout, and even then Oikawa can begin to feel eyes around the café glancing at them, making the back of his neck prickle.

“How do you think  _I_ feel then, huh? When you’re  _constantly_ flirting and taking pictures and  _signing autographs,_ Jesus—"

Oikawa frowns. “That’s different! You’ve had a lifetime to get used to that, and you know it doesn’t mean anything—"

“Do I?”

Oikawa’s mouth falls open. “What?”

He’s leaned back in his seat, arms folded over his chest. There’s something off about his expression that makes Oikawa’s stomach twist. “Do I know that? Really? I gotta say, Oikawa, that sometimes you’re a pretty convincing actor.”

The twist turns into a stab. “What does  _that_  mean?”

“It means that I think it’s pretty shitty of you to pull that garbage  _right in front of me._ We’re not public, I get it, we can’t let anybody know about us.”  _Us,_ being the past year and a half of being a couple, beginning in their second year of high school. The best year and a half of Oikawa’s life. “But  _I_ know. And sometimes it seems like you do too good a job of pretending.”

It feels, a little bit, like the wind’s been knocked out of him, his brain nothing but fuzzy static. What had started as a bit of light-hearted bickering has turned into something else entirely. It makes Oikawa feel sick—the fact that Iwaizumi has ever had to wonder, even for a moment, if maybe Oikawa’s feelings weren’t as genuine as they appeared to be.

“Iwa-chan.”

It’s a pathetic little whisper, and it’s all he can say. He doesn’t know what he’s  _meant_ to say. It’s certainly not a situation he had ever anticipated, and he has no idea how he’s meant to make it better. How he can make Iwaizumi see that there is no one, not then or now, that he could ever put above his best friend.

_That’s not true. You can’t really believe that I’d ever choose anyone over you._

“And now you’re pissed because a couple of girls I’ve never even  _talked_ to before think I look better now than when I had braces? You’re mad that you’re not the only one who wants to date me anymore? Get over yourself.”

He fumbles over his tongue, uncharacteristically speechless. “That’s not what I—"

But Iwaizumi is already shoving his chair back and grabbing his drink, the strap of his bag slung over his shoulder. His face is closed off as he steps towards the door.

“Save it, Oikawa. Just go home.”

Oikawa reaches to grab onto his sleeve. “No, stay! Please!”

He shakes his head. His fingers are surprisingly gentle when he pulls Oikawa’s hand away. For some reason, it stings worse than if it had been a slap. “If I stay here I’m gonna end up yelling at you. I need some time by myself.” Brutally honest, it has Oikawa sitting back with a dull  _thump_ , feeling dazed. “I’ll see you at practice tomorrow.”

The door of the café opens, letting in a gust of hot, humid air that mixes with the cool atmosphere created by the air conditioner. It ruffles Oikawa’s bangs against his forehead. His fingers reach out to dip into the puddle of condensation left by Iwaizumi’s drink.

“You give me too much credit, Iwa-chan,” he murmurs. “I’m not  _nearly_ that good of an actor.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

He can’t sleep.

Mostly because he was too upset and skipped out on dinner, which means he’s absolutely starving. But he just doesn’t want to eat when guilt burns so hot in the back of his throat (and a part of him thinks he deserves a good dose of self-punishment). He tosses and turns, obsessively checking his bedside clock—he just wants it to be morning already, something he’d never normally wish for. He needs his beauty sleep, after all. But morning means morning practice, and morning practice means that he gets to see Iwaizumi, who hopefully has cooled down in the nine-odd hours since they last saw each other. But if he hasn’t, maybe Oikawa will be able to squeeze in an apology before he gets the living daylights beat out of him.

Except it won’t be that easy. He messed up—he knows that. He never knew Iwaizumi was so…self-conscious, about their relationship. Uncertain. It’s absolutely ridiculous, but that’s because Iwaizumi doesn’t have a window right into Oikawa’s brain. He can’t see how roughly half of Oikawa’s thoughts swirl in a smitten cloud around a glorified image of Iwaizumi, the remainder being of volleyball, food, and outer space. If he’s insecure, it’s because Oikawa has assumed that he was being more attentive than he actually was. He’s been negligent. Which is, frankly, inexcusable.

3:42 AM

He barely holds back a groan. Another two and a half hours of staring at his ceiling, of his fingers tapping anxiously against his stomach. He might die if he doesn’t see Iwaizumi soon. He—

His legs swing off the edge of the bed, and he quickly reaches out to grab the first t-shirt he sees off the floor. It’s pulled on backwards, because he can feel the tag tickle under his chin, but he just can’t be bothered to fix it. Striped pajama pants go on over his briefs, and then he’s running fingers through his hair as he quietly slips down the stairs, slides his feet into slippers, and then out the door he goes.

He doesn’t let himself second-guess. He doesn’t let himself think too much about what he’s doing in general, actually. Across the street, and four houses down. His feet know the way so well that he could make the walk with his eyes closed. The gate alongside the house is a little creaky, so he only opens it about a foot and wiggles the rest of the way through, lest he wakes anyone. The path to the backyard space is made of gravel, and he stoops down to grab a handful of pebbles. They’re small enough that they shouldn’t cause much damage. Then, he takes a tiny stone in his hand, aims for the second-floor window on the left, and fires.

_Tak._

His aim is perfect, of course. He didn’t get this far in his sport of choice by being half-assed during his training—his hand-eye coordination is impeccable. But there’s no sign that his first attempt was heard, so he takes another small pebble, and throws it. And then another.

_Tak. Tak. Tak._

He keeps it up for another minute or so, and then the curtains of the window flutter. Oikawa pauses, his heart leaping into his throat. Then the fabric is pulled back completely, and the window is pulled up from the bottom. The pebbles fall from Oikawa’s hand as Iwaizumi sticks his head out into the cool night air. He looks adorably ruffled, eyes so squinted they appear closed. His frown would be fearsome if Oikawa didn’t already know that it’s only because he’s putting all his focus into staying upright.

Oikawa cups a hand around his mouth, and whispers in a mock-shout, “Hajime, oh Hajime! Let down your hair!”

Iwaizumi snorts, scratching at his belly beneath his shirt. “You’re throwing rocks at my window? What is this, a romantic comedy?”

“Of course not, Iwa-chan! If this was a romantic comedy, I would have brought my boombox!”

Iwaizumi cups his chin in his hand, elbow rested against the window frame. His eyes are half-open now, and he looks down, unimpressed. “Is this really all I get for being woken up in the middle of the night? Some weird dude with his shirt on backwards, standing in my backyard?”

Oikawa blanches.

“Don’t tell me. You didn’t plan past this part, did you?”

“Uh…”

“Typical.” Iwaizumi sighs, gazing at Oikawa piteously. He seems to debate for a second before ordering, “Stay there. I’ll be right down.”

The window is closed softly, and Oikawa steps up to the back porch, waiting patiently on the concrete steps. When the door opens, he hesitates—normally, he would just barrel straight in, but…

Iwaizumi huffs again, and yanks Oikawa though the threshold by the neck of his backwards t-shirt. “Get in here, you’re letting out the A/C.”

He closes the door behind them, and then just…stands there, considering Oikawa, with his stupidly cute messy hair and lines from his pillowcase embedded into his face. When he speaks, his voice is croaky with sleep. “Why are you here?” he asks. It’s not intended to be a mean-spirited question, just genuine curiosity and confusion, but Oikawa can’t help but interpret it as ‘ _You shouldn’t be here.’_

He licks his lips nervously. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Iwaizumi nods slowly. “You’ll have to leave before morning. My parents’ll get pissy if they know you slept over again.”

“That’s—!” Oikawa starts, then stops, awkwardly. Looks off the side; at the moonlight that glints off the chrome of the kitchen sink. “That’s not why I came over. I didn’t just come over to sleep with you.”

“Well, yeah, I figured that much,” Iwaizumi says with a half-laugh. “Usually when you can’t sleep you just watch the Sci-Fi channel until morning.”

Oikawa smiles, a little. “You know me so well.”

“ _Too_ well,” Iwaizumi corrects. He seems to remember something then, because the corners of his mouth turn down unhappily. Oikawa would do anything to get them curled up again.

“I didn’t know that the fan service stuff actually bothered you,” he blurts, getting right to the point.

There’s a moment of slightly stunned silence, but Iwaizumi recovers quickly. He scratches the back of his neck, frowning. “Some days are worse than others.”

“But it does. Bother you.”

He lets out a gusty breath. “Yeah.”

“Then I’ll stop.”

Iwaizumi stares at him, eyes wide. 

“I’ll stop everything. The pictures, the autographs, the flirting. I’ll rip up every single letter the second I open my locker. I’ll throw them in the trash for everyone to see.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know. But they don’t mean  _anything_ to me. Nobody means more to me than you. And I would do anything to keep your trust.”

His eyes soften, and Oikawa’s knees begin to feel like goo. “Like I said, you don’t gotta go that far. The girls would riot.” He yawns, holding a hand loosely in front of his mouth. His eyes are watering when he finishes. “All I’m askin’ is that you maybe just tone it down a little. Keep the flirting to a minimum,  _especially_ when we’re about to play a game, good god.”  

“Done,” Oikawa agrees quickly, but Iwaizumi isn’t finished.

“And don’t go messing with business that’s  _my_ business. Whether somebody gives me a confession letter or announces their undying love for me over the PA system, you gotta keep your cool. You gotta trust me that  _I'll_ take care of it." 

Oikawa salutes. “Yes, sir!”

Iwaizumi smiles, briefly ruffling Oikawa’s hair and leaning up to press a kiss to his forehead. “Dumbass.”

They’re still standing in the kitchen in the silver light of the moon, and the glow of dawn is hours away. They have time to rest, and maybe fix a quick snack before they go to bed, because he really  _is_ absolutely famished. But he needs to make extra sure of something first—he takes Iwaizumi’s hand, and presses it against his own chest. Hoping that he’ll be able to feel the little jig his heart does when they stand his close together. “I’m sorry I got so jealous, and reacted the way I did,” he murmurs. “But really, Hajime. You know that I love you, right? That I love you to the moon and back? Twice?”

“Wow, twice?” Iwaizumi grins. “You must love me a lot.”

Oikawa mirrors his smile, and leans forward to rest his forehead on Iwaizumi’s shoulder. Iwaizumi’s free hand gently threads through the hair at the back of his head, and Oikawa closes his eyes, feeling a pleasant sleepiness creep into him.

“You have no idea.”

**Author's Note:**

> this is just a short lil thing i started last fall and then dropped and then remembered, so i decided to finish it lol 
> 
> ohhotlamb.tumblr.com


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